


Does It Matter?

by Bovinity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, blind!jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27409930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bovinity/pseuds/Bovinity
Summary: Jack Morrison expected a dull life after losing his sight during service. He did not expect to wake up in the middle of the night to find a man on the brink of death pressing a gun to his head.- - - - -Previously known as: Death is BlindReworked. Rebranded.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 24
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work previously known as Death is Blind.  
> I have received many negative comments and I took them to heart.  
> Because of past controversy and mistakes, I will limit my voice during this work's process.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Does it matter ?-losing your sight?...

There's such splendid work for the blind;

And people will always be kind,

As you sit on the terrace remembering

And turning your face to the light.

-Siegfried Sassoon

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You should get out more often.” Jack snorted at the voice, trying to ignore the obvious concern. “I’m fine in here.” And he was: he had a kitchen, bathroom and bed, he didn’t need anything more. At least not the things everyone kept pestering him about. _No I don’t need a radio to keep me company, and how do you think I can care for a dog in my state?_

A soft sigh had Jack frown as the voice spoke again. “I’m not always going to be here Jack, you need to meet other people.” He had no idea what she looked like, but Jack was sure Angela was a beautiful woman who had more to do than caring for a crippled old man. “I’m fine Angela.” His voice sounded tired. She was quiet, soft footsteps approaching him. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” She kissed his forehead, having to probably stand on the tip of her toes, and left the cramped apartment, leaving the man alone once again.

Jack Morrison at the rather young age of 43, or so he argued, was blind. No one would immediately notice as his eyes managed to just dull in colour and many saw it as a sign of his age rather than an actual disability. The pale crystal blue of his eyes were still stunning, but nothing compared to what he used to have in his youth.

Those who knew of his tragedy kept themselves busy with theories as to how he went blind: Old age, genetics and even a rather long and humorous story involving a rooster. But the truth was dull and boring, not nearly as exciting as him seeking the death of a poor bird to avenge his family.

Jack Morrison is an ex-soldier, discharged due to injury. It was a mission gone wrong on too many levels which honed to many memories for him to think back on, at least he won’t be able to see the pitying eyes of those who knew the true story behind it all… or at least the eyes of Angela, his personal nurse given to him to prevent any public shame on the organisation’s part. 

It still didn’t stop Angela from sighing as she kept the ugly truth to herself as others would keep spewing theories and poking at him to reveal the true mystery behind it all. _Damn kids._

After his discharge therapy, Jack moved into his current crappy apartment in L.A. where he was willing to die of old age… which might still take a few more years give or take. Although he used to hold a high rank and was well-respected, he refused any help except for the monthly funding to keep his refrigerator stocked.

The once golden-boy who would be honoured by everything the government was willing to offer, died and spawned a grumpy man who sneered at them as he could practically see their smug faces and ‘Charity-case’ stamped across his forehead. He knew he was being childish, but he had his own ways of dealing with denial dammit.

His same ways of dealing with his shit, is the same reason why Angela demanded he goes for therapy for at least three years… and thank God is he happy those sessions are over. If he has to hear some wise ass telling him all the ways to cope with his new found blindness, then he might just start killing people around him. Maybe his aim would be better.

Thinking back onto Angela’s words, Jack realised with a sudden emptiness that she was right… one day he will end up alone and will have to eventually learn to take care of himself. With a sigh he lowered himself onto his creaking couch. Closing his blind eyes, he welcomed the familiar numbing sensation signalling sleep.

… … …

A crash had Jack jerk awake, his instinct having him reach for an absent gun. His ears rung and mind spun with paranoia as he tried to scan his surroundings for the enemy, only to find everything black. His heart pounded and he tried to rapidly blink the black away when his mind suddenly supplied him with the right information. _You’re blind idiot._

Regaining his senses and calming his thundering heart, Jack was about to berate Angela for not caring about his health when a very masculine voice cursed. _Shit._ For once Jack cursed himself for falling asleep on the couch without his cell phone near him, which was all the way in his room… and impossible to get to without various curses and injured toes.

He never bothered to learn the layout in his three months of living here: sticking to the bed and couch. The voice cursed again and was closer than before. Jack tried to reason with himself that no one would harm a blind man… actually that was bullshit. Who wouldn’t harm a blind man? He didn’t live in the safest neighbourhoods and was sure that eighty percent of the people were gangsters, maybe even his neighbours if the suspicious conversations were to be believed.

Angela once told him she overheard that people thought he was an old rich man who wanted to get away from all the fame and fortune, which wasn’t too far from the truth but still. Deciding to act asleep was the best option, he slipped his eyes closed again when a voice suddenly growled in his ear. “Don’t move.”

The voice was gruff and mean with a light accent. But it didn’t scare Jack, he faced men more dangerous than this. Holding his breath, he focused his senses on the intruder. The man was breathing heavily, slightly wheezing. A click distracted him once again as he became aware of cold metal pressed against the side of his forehead. This guy must belong to a local gang.

Mentally going through his military training, Jack was about to fight back when the man let out a sharp breath followed by the clatter of his gun. A loud thud the final evidence of the intruder as Jack was still pumped with adrenaline.

_What the fuck?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of the first chapters will be strikingly similar to the original, but that is only because they were not the ones to strike controversy
> 
> If you have read this before you will soon see where things begin to change 
> 
> Disclaimer(s):
> 
> 1\. I am not American, I have no idea if some sort of wording is offensive or not because I don't spend my whole life learning American social culture  
> 2\. A lot of this story's community is based on a community and its people which existed in my country before it was disbanded due to eradication of the people, so if something seems... off, I am merely channeling a place of which I have extensive knowledge of

Angela Ziegler was a patient woman, or so she believed. It was a trait highly required in her line of profession. She worked with many people during her day as a nurse, but she swore the day she was assigned to Jack Morrison’s was the day her patience will eternally be tested. Especially when she received a text from the man just after midnight, with nothing but the word ‘Come’, like she was some sort of servant there for his every beck and call. And yet at the back of her mind she praised the man for finally using the dammed device's abilities to contact her, even if it took half a year to have him attempt to speak into the thing.

With her masked fury, she stomped up the stairs and didn’t even bother to be wary of residents giving her the stink-eye as she passed them. They never liked her when they arrived, and she was sure they would continue to hate her while Jack stubbornly refused to leave this place. Silently fuming, she unlocked the door to his apartment and was about to unleash her fury on the man and demand why he would want to wake her up at such an ungodly hour when he suddenly spoke up in the pitch-black apartment.

“What time is it?”

This had her stutter in her step as she gaped at his silhouette, standing perfectly still. This worried her: Jack _always_ knew what the time was, one thing which kept him grounded and giving him some control in his life.

“Not late enough for that rooster to come back.” She piped sarcastically, cautious of the situation. He snorted before cursing again. “Jack?”

“Just come here already.” He growled the words and she subconsciously obeyed, having another taste of his military days. She flicked the lights on along the way for her own convenience and was about to continue marching towards where he stood next to the couch staring at the floor, when she spotted a pair of feet peeking from the behind the couch. She knew Jack was a dangerous man in his prime, but to have the ability to kill a man in his current state...

Coming to his side, she saw a dark man dressed in complete black sprawled uncomfortably on the floor with a rather large gun discarded by his side. The dirty carpet was stained with small red blotches and Angela realised the man was bleeding. “Wha-”

“Is he dead?” Jack’s voice was stoic as he interrupted her, his foot aimed to kick the man’s leg but met empty air instead as he missed. For a moment Angela felt guilty as she realised the ex-soldier had no idea what was going on. With a sigh she knelt down and got to work.

… … …

Jack patiently stood waiting as Angela administered the man lying on the floor. After the rather thrilling event, that of a stranger barging into his apartment before collapsing, he managed to retrieve a backup phone in the kitchen (He was on his way to the bedroom, but got lost) and went back to search where the man had landed – causing him to have a rather embarrassing fall as he tripped over the man and almost bashing his head into the opposite wall. He of course failed to mention any of this to Angela, deciding it was best to not have the nurse worry more about him than she already does. 

Angela worked quietly, save her small noises as she probably discovered new things. The silence of the apartment meant that Jack’s thoughts were free and caused him to wonder what he would’ve done without Angela. _Probably wait until his corpse decomposed._ A small bubble of loneliness emerged but he pushed it away when Angela finally spoke up. “He’s breathing and his injuries aren’t too serious… but I will have to get more supplies if we’re not going to take him to the hospital.”

An unspoken thought echoed in the silence: they had no idea if this man was dangerous, and if he was they did not want others to think they were associated with him. In fact, Angela didn’t want Jack to communicate with anyone, not trusting him to behave in his _delicate_ situation. Jack sighed at their bad luck and wondered if the man being dead would’ve made things easier… actually, scrap that thought. “So I’m guessing he’s staying here?” _Another person I have to add into my life..._

“ _Ja… sheisse…”_ Angela was silent once again when the rustling of clothes alerted Jack that she was trying to move the man. He shuffled backwards in surprise, scared a hand might jump out at him, “Where-”

“He has to go to your bed. Sorry Jack, but I’d rather not have us worsen his condition.” Jack didn’t bother to argue and bent down to help her with the man. He was not doing this because he cared, he was doing this because he did not want Angela to have another thing to hold over his head. Her seeing him shitting his pants while crying was enough blackmail. She gave him one of the man's arms which Jack was surprised to find was _very_ muscular. He fought down a blush, but not quick enough.

“Really Jack?”

“Shut up.”

Together they heaved the man up, most of his weight piled onto Jack as he was the most jacked up between the two of them. He wrapped an arm around the man’s waist – which could probably make every woman jealous – and with some difficulty started to drag him to his bedroom. Angela kept yelling at him to watch out for any obstacles, and he only managed to break a plate sitting on an end table. A record if he had to say so himself. 

Finally at their destination, they lowered the man onto the bed which let out a pitiful creak. His bed never sounded so _sad_ having someone on it, it was actually depressing. Just how big _was_ the man? He must’ve voiced his thoughts because Angela huffed. “Big enough to survive two bullets and a stab wound.”

“…I thought you said his injuries weren’t serious.”

“They aren’t, one bullet went through clean and the other isn’t lodged in too deeply. It’s easy for me to patch up and none of the injuries are in critical areas. Whoever attacked him still needs a long way to go.”

 _Yes please Angela, encourage these people to kill each other better. Maybe I should just start a boot camp!_ He was awfully tempted to tease her for the sake of it, but he feared the woman deeply. “…What now?” was what he opted for with a deep sigh. 

Clearly this strange gun wielding, bleeding and unfairly muscular man was trouble and could be a possible threat. He was starting to understand why Angela protested against him coming here: clearly she had done her research, and when she mentioned the possibility of some... hostile territory disputes she was not exaggerating. He just hoped he didn’t hold one of his neighbour’s rivals or something, but that is still only if the man _was_ a gangster… actually if someone attacked him in the first place then it already means more would be after him. _Fuck this shit._

Angela interrupted his internal turmoil, “I will go and fetch my kit, you just have to make sure he doesn’t die or anything.”

 _Wait, what?_ Before he could protest, the nurse left him alone once again, the door slamming behind her. Jack glared at nothing in the silent room and tried not to focus on the heavy breathing of the stranger in his bed. This isn’t what he had in mind of meeting other people.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel Reyes was a simple man who knew exactly what he wanted from life: Killing people – or at least the people who deserved it. Many would be horrified at knowing that one of their greatest talents was being able to kill someone ranging from a quick clean snap of the neck all the way down to slow torture until they died from over stimulation. It’s not like he was cruel by nature, rather it’s more to do with that he’s been involved with the world of violence ever since he learned how to walk.

Los Angeles was his home and he was proud of it, even if it meant he was born into a rather difficult part of the city. He grew up knowing death was lurking around every corner; not even the quiet moon could bring peace to anyone. Gabriel lost his father to one of those fake peaceful nights. The next morning his mother told him the news and he knew his childhood was no longer.

At first he tried to find out how or why his father died, but he was only met with violence and death threats delivered to the house. He had to give up on the hope of finding peace in his father’s death and could only do what everyone else did during the world’s most trying times; join a gang or die. And so he did.

For years he joined various gangs and managed to stay out of trouble, and at the same time keeping his family safe. He learned the inner workings of things, the trivial rivalries and how to create loops in small contracts. It took years filled with blood and sweat, until Gabriel Reyes became ‘Reaper’: the most feared gangster in his part of the city – his reputation rumoured to have spread almost the entire Southern California. Everyone knew who he was and no one dared to mess with him or his family.

Yet someone must have never gotten the memo and decided to take on the big boss himself for some territory. Gabriel would’ve been ashamed at being bested by some kid, but it was clear that not all of his injuries were born out of pure luck. Gabriel’s knowledge of the neighbourhood was the only thing saving him from another bullet as he made a mad dash to get the fuck away. At least he knew that the others would soon enough take care of the little bastard – many things has changed since Reaper took over, and one of them was the lack of tolerance towards unnecessary violence.

Yet the surprise attack and chase meant nothing as Gabriel woke up in a foreign bed. A sharp pain shot through his abdomen and leg. His back ached as the old sunken mattress beneath him moaned. He was sane enough to immediately realise he was in an unfamiliar place, as none of the places he knew smelled so _lonely:_ like dust and cobwebs, as if it’s been left for dead with no hope for redemption. It was depressing.

Hissing in pain as his stomach protested against his movements, small snippets of the previous night filtered through his head as he tried to restore his memory. His mind went hazy after having escaped the kid, his recent fight with the flu not exactly happy with him running around like a madman and scaling apartment buildings to get to higher ground. He knew he should have listened to the stubborn women at home who tried to tie him down. He would be sure to apologise when he gets back.

Trying to ignore the pain Gabriel squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to remember where he was. All that came to mind were pale blue eyes – something which wasn’t a common sight. The image went as quick as it came. He placed a hand on his injuries and realised that they were professionally bandaged up, even better than how his _abuela_ could manage. It could mean that his captors were friendly, or that they didn’t want to dispose of a body just yet.

The room he was in was dark, but he could make out enough of it from the small rays of dim light coming in from the window. The place only had a dresser and a chair next to the bed, the wallpaper peeling off and the ceiling cracked around the corners. Whoever lived here didn’t really care much for the place, yet they still managed to take care of him. What strange people.

Voices suddenly sprung to life from behind the door: a soft feminine voice pleading to a rather gruff and growling voice of a man. He might have perhaps stumbled into a couple’s apartment, maybe even scaring their kids shitless. He really wasn’t in the mood to apologising for terrorising families again, his family already getting tired of having to deal with angry mothers screaming about him apparently watching them through their windows. It’s not his fault his daily target was a flighty girl.

The voices stopped and Gabriel knew that it meant someone was going to come in. Getting back down onto the mattress, he closed his eyes. The door gave a slight click and Gabriel kept himself alert as he laid perfectly still on the bed. Soft footsteps could be heard nearing him before they stopped. “I know you’re awake.” _The woman._ Not pretending to act surprised, Gabriel opened his eyes and was then taken back when he met the face of a pretty blonde woman. _Not a lot of blondes floating around here._

Her features were soft but he could see the wariness in her eyes. “Who are you?” She asked. Her asking that meant that she was new to the whole scene, maybe even completely unaware that there were gangs loitering outside of her apartment. _Meaning I won’t have to kill her._ He pondered on how he should answer her when a grumbling curse at the doorway stole both of their attentions.

A blond man with grey highlights was bent over rubbing at his injured toe as he continued to swear at the doorframe. The woman turned around with worry and fury in her eyes. “I told you to wait outside-”

“This is _my_ place woman.” His voice really was a growl, but not unpleasant to listen to – more like a bear who was trying to convince people that he can be friendly. Gabriel could feel himself tense up, suddenly aware of a possible threat. If the boy from the previous night was of any indication, it could be very possible that non-Californians decided to move into some delicate turf. _Fucking try it._

The blond finally raised his head and glared with crystal blue eyes at nothing. Gabriel managed to suppress his gasp as his head cleared up a bit more. He almost killed that man yesterday. His mind swirled between threats and apologies, but could only settle on one thing. “Did anyone follow me?” Because if anyone _did_ , it could mean that either they were hidden away somewhere or were already taken care of by the residents. The man certainly did look like he could handle a fight with his built frame, which surprisingly enough looked to provide agility rather than strength.

“Dunno.” The man shrugged, still glaring at nothing. The woman turned back to Gabriel, more worried than furious now. “You were chased?” He felt sorry for the couple. They really did seem like an innocent couple who did not bother to do research on their new home – even if Mr. Blue-Eyes looked like he wanted to kill something. Gabriel decided that they should at least know about the gangs.

“A boy, not entirely dangerous-” The man snorted which caused Gabriel to sneer. _“¿Problema?”_ The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not that Gabriel would take a guess as to why. The woman remained stoic. “We just want to know if keeping you here is safe.” Gabriel was about berate her for the idiotic question, when sudden realisation struck him. Giving the man another look, he was left speechless.

 _Is this guy the...?_ Talks about a hermit quickly spread like wildfire, until everyone started to investigate further and came back with information claiming that a rich white man moved in. Gabriel was quick to knock sense into anyone who dared to utter a peep about killing or robbing the man, not wanting any more reason for the cops to be back on their asses. That at least meant the pretty couple weren’t any threats to him.

“No one will come looking for me, at least not anyone dangerous if that’s what you’re worried about.” _Unless_ she _comes…_ The blonde nodded with approval. “I am Dr. Ziegler-” The man snorted and was met with a glare, “- _Nurse_ Ziegler, I mean, and the one to patch you up.” Gabriel nodded in acknowledgement and uttered a small thank you. “Reaper.” Is all he said, not willing to trust them with his real name just yet.

The man frowned deeply (was it all he could do?) and crossed his arms, going to lean against the doorframe and almost missing it. Was he always do prone to accidents? “You had shitty parents.” The man said gruffly. Gabriel actually laughed at that one.

“Born a dead man I guess.” He was ignored when Mr. Blue-Eyes spoke to Ms? Mrs? Ziegler without facing her. “So what now? Leave him like a helpless damsel in my bed?” She looked doubtful, giving Gabriel a quick over before sighing. He could already feel his injuries burning again. He was not leaving soon and they all knew it.

“He can’t walk, and I’d rather not have him aggravate his injuries. He will have to stay for a couple of days.” Gabriel personally had nothing against this, as he was used to being holed up in others’ homes while he was healing. But Mr. Blue-Eyes did not look pleased at all. _Please don’t hit me._

“Jack-”

“Fine, but if I die then it’s your fault.” He turned and walked straight into the door frame, cursing loudly before angling his body and skulking out of the room.

_What a pleasant man…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to correct any foreign language errors. As we all know, Google Translate is one's best friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started a healthy lifestyle and now I am in pain from gymming and I can barely stay awake past 9pm  
> So apologies if the updates seems sloppy, I'm just trying to stay awake
> 
> Thinking of getting active on tumblr again maybe, really all I do is post updates and maybe some drabbles  
> Will let you know if I ever get to that point again, social media and I are not friends!

Jack wasn’t fond of strangers, especially strangers he couldn’t see. After the brief conversation with Reaper – Jack snorted again – he stumbled his way to the kitchen where his hip already had a permanent bruise from bumping into one particular counter. With clumsy movements he found the cupboard storing his glasses and got one while blindly feeling around for his tap with the other hand. At least his tiny apartment meant everything was close by.

Soft hands took the glass from him and caused him to jump at the sudden contact. The sound of rushing water was brief and the glass was pressed against his hand. “You need to start actually learning your surroundings Jack.”

“I don’t see the need to.” He mumbled before chugging down the water. He was parched from all the "excitement". He was clearly looking forward to having to deal with the man now forced into his bed. Something he would have appreciated in the past, but right now he wants the man gone. 

He knew Angela wanted to say something and didn’t have to wait too long. “He’s hurt and harmless right now, but I still don’t you being alone Jack. If someone else-” “I’m fine Angie, it’s not like I forgot how to fight.” He hated her patronising him, no matter how caring she sounded. “I think I should speak to your neigh-” “Yes, please let every single gang in the entire building know that we might or might not have one of their rivals in my bed. It’s bad enough that they all want to already kill me, don’t them more reasons to.”

She gave a hard sigh but he refused to feel guilty. His pride was bruised enough with not even being able to get himself water, how much worse would it be having to ask his potential murderers for help. “I don’t understand why you’re like this Jack. First you refuse to go for therapy, then you threw a tantrum when they assigned me to you and now you’re living in one of the most dangerous neighbourhoods. Do you _want_ to suffer?”

He stayed silent, not giving her the pleasure of being proven right. He didn’t need her pity. He was a soldier dammit, not a little boy. Clearly giving up on the old man, Angela huffed angrily: “Call me if he complains about any infections.” She left with heavy footsteps and the bang of the front door signalling the end of their time for the day. Now he just has to remember how to cook an egg.

… … …

The days spent since blind was boring and dull. When it wasn’t filled with listening to his therapist, it was just him and his couch along with all the morbid thoughts and thinking if dying right now would really be that bad. The radio was too loud and the TV could only offer so much. So now he just spent his whole day sleeping and waiting for Angela to come and make him food. Jack wondered if dogs ever felt this bored. 

But now he had a guest and his mother raised him better than to ignore them. He just hoped that his intrusion won’t been taken as him actually _caring,_ he was just bored and it was only twenty seven past eleven in the morning.

He didn’t bother to be stealthy, he magically failed at being so to begin with, as he stumbled towards his room and managed to get the door handle on his first try. He was getting used to this. Opening the door, he strained to hear what his guest was up to. “Something wrong _rubio_?” The foreign word slipped so easily from Reaper, and Jack tried hard not to dwell on it.

“You going to kill me any time soon?” Angela was right, he couldn’t handle a situation delicately.

“How would I benefit from it?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m drowning in riches.” Jack hoped he at least sounded sarcastic enough, it’s been long since he spoke to someone new.

“So you _do_ know about the gangs.” Jack was sure he could hear relief in the man’s voice, but didn’t want to plague his mind with fantasies. Just because Reaper was well built, Spanish and the voice of someone who just had wild sex – didn’t mean he would care about the safety of a crippled man (Somewhere in the back of his mind he refused to admit how touch starved he was since he was assigned Angela). 

“Enough that I’ll probably die soon.” His neighbours were sometimes too loud with their discussions. Reaper cursed in Spanish. “Unnecessary violence isn’t tolerated, we might be a community filled with gangs, but we’re still a _community._ ” Jack wanted to point out to his guest that he was injured and bed-ridden from _violence_. “Not everyone agrees to our policy.” For a moment Jack forgot that people could still see _his_ expression, as Reaper probably answered to his very smug expression.

Schooling his features, he carefully walked into the room and mentally traced the steps to the chair Angela placed next to his bed. His hands grazed the coarse material of the chair and he internally cheered as he managed to hide his disability for just a while longer. He sat down and hoped that he was at least facing Reaper.

“But you held me at gun point, Mr Reaper. Such a friendly name by the way.” He could tell that the man was getting agitated, yet his voice was steady. Impressive.

“I was paranoid, it was reasonable for me to hold a stranger at gunpoint. You could’ve been dangerous, can still be for all I know.” Jack wanted to feel proud, but his mind kept reminding him that he wasn’t dangerous _anymore._ Not something he’s about to tell to a total stranger, gangster or not.

“Well I can ensure you I am but a harmless hermit, just don’t touch all my gold please.” Reaper suddenly growled, or tried to hide his anger. “Any reason why you aren’t looking at me _gringo_?” Jack tensed at the words, useless eyes widening in shock as he forced himself to stay calm. He swallowed and knew he could not hide his shocked features; that was already too late. “Um-”

“What? Scars not part of your daily lifestyle?”

 _Shit! Fuck!_ Jack had no idea what the man looked like and Angela never warned him about anything, so he just assumed that the man was, well, _normal._ He had no idea if the man even had a face anymore, and if that was the case, well then there was no way he was able to play it off. “I, uh, didn’t notice it I guess.” His voice was soft and timid, but he could care less as panic started to settle within in.

This could blow his cover, and that could mean having to move if Angela found out. She was already searching for any excuse to get him somewhere _safer._ He felt perfectly safe where he was, or at least he did until now. Not waiting for Reaper to reply, Jack suddenly stood up and headed for the door, bumping into the chair.

“Angela will be here soon, um, I have to clean up a bit.” He didn’t wait for Reaper’s response.


	5. Chapter 5

“Any reason why Mr. Blue Eyes isn't freaking out about my fucked up face?” Ms Ziegler – Angela – paused as she was about to reapply the bandage. Gabriel could see the hesitation in her eyes, her shoulders tense.

“He is very unobservant…” She finally supplied, her deft fingers continuing her work. Gabriel glared at her. “By entirely missing the fact that I look like a crisp marshmallow?” He knew he was sounding petty, but curiosity killed the cat – and he still had seven lives to go. 

Angela honestly looked conflicted. She finished up the job and gave a satisfied nod at her own work. She pulled down his shirt and gave Gabriel a steady look. “He might not look like it, but he has seen worse things in his life. I can’t tell you what exactly, but I do know that a scar or two won’t have him screaming.” He raised his eyebrow at the words, which only earned him a stern look in return.

“We don’t trust you and I’m sure you don’t trust us. The only reason why you’re here patched up and resting, is because we don’t want to draw more attention to ourselves by throwing you out.” Gabriel was starting to get annoyed of his neighbourhood being called _dangerous._ It’s true that it doesn’t have the cleanest slate in history, but things has changed a lot since _then._ His people weren’t ruthless, no matter what the media says about them. 

“Well if you’re that worried, why don’t you just grab your husband and scurry away?”

“H-husband!?” Angela’s face flushed red, and she stumbled back in surprise. Gabriel realised that he might have made the wrong assumptions. He _thought_ their interactions weren’t overly romantic to begin with, especially since she keeps leaving, he cannot be blamed for it: he has seen many strange relationships.

“Well what are you then?” This had Angela sober up. She gave the door a quick glance before coming closer to me, her voice dropping down to a whisper.

“I’m his… caretaker.” She frowned at the words and Gabriel had no idea what to say. Mr. Blue-Eyes looked able enough, maybe needs some work on observing his surroundings (as the woman insists) , but otherwise nothing else indicated that he needed some… help. “And why would he need one? To tell him not to bump into the doorframe?”

“He’s recovering and I’m here to make sure he settles in, although we would’ve liked him to choose a more stable environment.”

“I keep telling you-”

“I know this area, I did my research before we came here. I know that things has changed, but it doesn’t mean I like him being alone – for his safety and health.”

Gabriel didn’t like where this was going. “Are you going to ask for a favour?”

“We _did_ help you.”

“… What is it?”

She gave another glance at the door, but it didn’t appear that they would be interrupted any time soon. “I won’t be able to be with him forever, and he still has many years to go… I just need someone to keep him company. He needs friends, a social life. I don’t _want_ him to become a hermit.” Gabriel was speechless at the pure concern in her voice. He was sure the two were forced upon each other on some way or another, but he wondered if they knew each other for longer than he suspected. 

“I can’t promise anything, outsiders aren’t very welcome.” _His complexion doesn’t help either._ The words went unsaid, and he thought it was for the best. His people didn't take too kindly to white men these days, especially since... 

“ _Bitte…_ ” He was yanked from his thoughts as he looked up at the nurse again, her eyes filled with pain and her voice wavering. She cared for the man… and dammit Gabriel wasn’t about to let down someone so hurt. “No promises.”

He cannot wait until _she_ hears about this. He won't hear the end of it. 

… … …

“You made a deal with him.” It wasn’t a question and Angela didn’t comment on Jack’s growl. He might’ve been blind, but he wasn’t dumb. She sniffed and spoke up, her voice slightly wavering. “In a way, but it benefited us both.”

“Angela-”

“No. Shut your grumpy ass up and accept someone’s help for _once!_ For the past three years we’ve been running around trying to help you through this and all you did was yell at us and destroy all of our hard work. You think just because of your position that you’re a special case, but you’re _not_ Jack. _They_ won’t take care of you forever, and neither will I.”

Jack was quiet as he heard her make her way to the kitchen, the angry clanging of pots ensuring him that at least he will be fed today. Jack knew he was petty, he knew that he sometimes acted like a child – but it’s hard to stay optimistic when he’s lost _so much._

He didn’t feel like sitting on the couch and having Angela throwing him glares he won’t be able to see, so he made his way to his room and his guest won’t stop him from venting. He didn’t expect the door to be open and was surprised when his hand went through thin air. He blushed when he realised that Reaper probably saw his fumble and made quick work of straightening himself up. But his embarrassment clouded his mind and he grunted as the chair knocked into his groin.

Reaper huffed from the bed, the mattress creaking as he probably adjusted himself. Jack could only imagine how much effort it had to take him to move with the muscles he was packing. Slightly annoyed at the very unhelpful images his brain was supplying himself, Jack carefully straightened himself and placed himself in the chair. “Now I see why you need a nurse.” The words made Jack tense up, his defenses screaming at him.

“What?”

Reaper was quiet before giving an amused huff. “Well who else has to patch you up after you walk into everything?” The relief flooding over Jack must have been too obvious, because his own awkward smile didn’t seem to relief the room’s tension. “She told me you’re recovering, and you’ve seen some shit.” _True._

“I’m was a soldier.”

“Discharged?”

“I guess…” Jack fought tooth and nail when he woke up to have his surroundings covered in black, demanding that he stayed. He remembers the doctors having to strap him down and the higher ups threatening him, forcing him to accept his discharge. It wasn’t a memory he was fond of. Reaper was quiet, and Jack was about to attempt small talk when a hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist, causing him to kick out and fall back on the chair.

Toppled over, Jack was left disorientated and started to panic when he feared what Reaper’s response to show would be. How could he play off his tumble, just because of a simple touch? “Well damn, I didn’t think you’d run away.” Reaper’s voice was filled with amusement, his tone light as he tried to make a joke out of the situation. But Jack was embarrassed.

Refusing to reply, he scrambled onto his hands and knees and glared at the floor. If this was with Angela, she would patiently wait as he straightened himself up – but this was Reaper, and Jack was damn well determined to not let the stranger know of his disability. He could feel his cheeks and eyes burning, not having ever found himself in his current position.

“You okay down there?” The words were too loud, the voice too light. It sounded so _wrong,_ so _pitying._ “I’m fucking fine.” Jack growled out, crawling to where he hoped the chair was and tried to casually feel for it. Finding the rough material, he carefully lifted it back onto its feet and gave himself an internal cheer as he once again managed to make a smooth recovery.

Reaper was silent, but for once Jack didn’t mind as much. It gave him time to sort out his thoughts and think of every possible answer concerning his stumble-

“Well fuck, you’re blind.”

 _What?_ “E-excuse me?” He had no idea if Reaper answered him, his chest painfully constricting as he realised what happened. Reaper knew, he _noticed._ Jack was too slow, too obvious. _This is where it ends, either I’m going to die right here and now or Angela is going to take me back to that fucking happy place again and I will have to listen to Winston’s coping methods-_

“Hey! Hey calm down dammit!” Jack had no idea when he started to shake, his knees felt weak and his breathes coming out in short gasps. He felt weak and vulnerable, unable to see the enemy and calculate the fastest escape route. It was too dark, too uncontrollable. He’s really going to die this time, there is no other outcome. This is the end.

“ _Mierda_.” A large hand suddenly pressed gently against his abdomen, another firmly around his eyes. “There’s nothing to see, just breathe, there’s nothing to see…” The voice was in his ear, hot breath forcing his mind to try and _focus._ The hands grounded him, the voice guiding him. “ _Breathe._ ” The word was growled in his ear, steady breathing followed. His brain obeyed the command as he tried to match Reaper’s breathing, suddenly grateful for the firm grip around his eyes as his brain stopped searching for visuals.

After he managed a few successful breaths, he raised his hands to his eyes and pried Reaper’s fingers away. Still unfocused, but able to understand. Jack can’t remember if this ever happened before, or if anyone has ever helped him. There’s been times when things were too fast, too loud – but what he felt was bone-deep _fear,_ he just had no idea of _what._ (He knew but he didn't want to admit it). 

He didn’t trust his voice, not yet. But his brain quickly told him that Reaper had moved in his injured state, that his wounds were probably open and bleeding. Trying his hardest to glare, Jack pressed his hands against Reaper’s chest which was still in front of him. “You’re hurt dammit, lie down.” He refused to believe his voice shook, refused to believe that Reaper saw his weakness.

Reaper only hissed but shuffled back down, the covers rustling with each movement. Jack had no idea if Angela was aware of anything which just happened, but he’d rather not have her fuss over him right now. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Reaper’s voice was soft. “I’m not useless.” Jack growled out, not sure what he was answering.

“That’s not what I asked.” Jack didn’t bother to answer, because either way it won’t do him any good.

Instead he shakily stood up, a mild headache starting to form. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?”

 _Because it makes me weak, it makes me a target._ He stayed silent, but was sure Reaper was going to at least honour his request. “Fine I won’t, but on one condition.” _God no._ Folding his arms, Jack turned his head and glared.

“What?”

“I keep it a secret, and you come meet my family.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jack never gave his answer. Instead he just left and found Angela still busy in the kitchen and quick to tell him where the leftovers were before feeding the two men. Having Reaper know about his blindness had him feeling dizzy. He just hoped the man at least kept quiet about his little episode, hoping that Angela won’t find more reasons to coddle him like she already does.

… … …

Jack spent the rest of the day on his couch, keeping track of the time until he fell asleep with blind dreams.

… … …

“Did you talk to him yet?” Angela arrived early the next morning, having brought medicine to help with Reaper’s infections and also angry at having to redress his wounds. She had no idea how he managed to open them up again. Good. Jack only shrugged and rubbed at his sore back. It’s been a while since he slept on his couch for so long, but until Reaper was healed and ready to go – the blond was stuck with the rotten piece of furniture until then.

“… You had a fight with him didn’t you?” No reply. She groaned, the sound making Jack flinch in guilt. “You’re two grown men, how did you even get to give each other the silent treatment?”

“I’m not obligated to talk to him.”

“What happened to Good-Manners-Morrison?”

Jack only scowled and sunk into the couch, folding his arms over his chest. “Now is not the best time Angie… I really don’t want to talk to him.” She was silent, but her footsteps led to the kitchen. Clattering of cutlery and crockery could be heard, when suddenly an ice cold plate dropped onto his lap. “Fucking hell!” His panic almost flared up, but Angela’s unimpressed snort quickly brought him back. He carefully wrapped his fingers around the plate and glared down at it.

“Go give him food Jack, he’s your guest – not my patient.” He knew she wasn’t going to leave until he stood up and actually went to his room. So with a curse and a dramatic groan, he held the plate in one hand and steadily made his way to the door which was closed this time. He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside, and suddenly wondered what the injured man did the whole day.

“Go on then.” Scowling at her patronising voice, Jack opened the door and loudly shut it behind him. He heard a soft curse come from his bed and felt satisfaction. “I am forced to feed you.” Is all he said, not hiding his clear dislike of having to do so. Reaper only huffed from his position and Jack followed the sound. Never did he have to be so aware of his surroundings before, being usually glued to his couch the whole day and waiting for suffering to end.

Having handed the plate to the Latino man, Jack was about to leave once again when Reaper spoke up. “You’re going to sit on the couch again?” Jack swore he was being mocked, but realised that he wasn’t the only one bored out of mind. With a resigned sigh, he placed himself back onto the chair and refused to aim his head at his guest.

Said guest grumbled something in Spanish, probably criticising the extremely questionable food he was being given. Angela was but a nurse, she wasn’t expected to cook for grumpy blind men who ruin their kitchen floors with rotten eggs. He should probably learn how to make microwave food.

Reaper must’ve been busy eating, as the apartment once again fell into silence. Jack had no idea if he was the only one feeling the strained tension between them, or if he should just ignore everything which happened the day before and wait patiently until the Latino left his apartment already.

“Why’s the place so quiet? Don’t you have a radio?” Reaper’s voice cut through the silence, but Jack wasn’t lost too deep in his thoughts. “It’s too loud.”

“And is noise a bad thing?” Jack understood the question, it wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to be wary of noises. But that wasn’t his problem. “It’s just overwhelming sometimes, I can’t focus.” _Or hear people approaching._

“TV?”

“No.”

“So what do you do the whole day?”

“Wait till Angela comes by.” It was pathetic and he knew it, but it’s been his daily routine for almost three months now: time which Angela kept begging him to start improving on himself, but Jack was a stubborn man. “Let’s play a game then.” Jack huffed and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes. “What are you, eight?”

“Forty five.”

Jack caught on quick, it was one of those dumb games where everyone had to answer the same question. He never partook in them, wishing to keep his secrets to himself thank you very much. But right now, there wasn’t much else to lose. “Forty three.”

He heard Reaper snort, and Jack’s hand reflexively went for his hair as he self-consciously tugged at a few strands. His once golden blond already started to sport grey roots when he could still see, he could only guess how much of different it is now.

“Jack.” He said slowly, thinking that they were close enough to at least know each other’s names. “Gabriel.” The name sounded so _smooth_ coming from Reaper – Gabriel – and Jack couldn’t fight the warm blush as the Latino not only emphasised his accent, but pronounced the name with rolling ‘r’s and sinful Spanish.

“Where you from?” He coughed out, wondering where the man learned such a sinful accent. “Born and bred here, probably going to die here too.” _Oh._ The thought of Gabriel being so _content_ with death made Jack uneasy, but he had to admit that the thought of it didn’t scare him so much nowadays. “I’m from Indiana, raised on a farm.” Jack could still remember the red barn and the golden corn, the sky, the horses and even his mother’s cosy kitchen where she would bake at least once a day.

“And then you suddenly joined the war?”

“Compensation.” Gabriel went silent again for a few seconds. Jack wasn’t forced to join the war in any way, nor did he want to go willingly. But things happened and suddenly he was up and about to go and risk his life for his country. Not that he didn’t love his country, but sometimes he would question whether some things are truly worth it.

“And then you, um…” Gabriel’s voice was hesitant, but it was easy to decipher that he was trying to pry again. “A mission gone wrong.”

“And your scars are suddenly your secrets?”

Jack couldn’t answer that. His reason for keep his blindness a secret not valid enough for his own ears, and not something he’s willing to share with anyone. Even Winston tried to understand why he kept it a secret, why he just couldn’t accept it already.

“Everyone has reasons for everything, I don’t need to tell you mine.”

“Fine then, but does your family know?”

“No, they just think I’m still under intense therapy from the war.” Truth be told, Jack hasn’t spoken to his family ever since he was discharged. He only sent them a letter explaining that he won’t be returning home anytime soon and made sure they had no way of contacting him. Of course that gave him extra months spent with Winston.

“My _abuela_ would kill me if I ever lied to her.” Hearing Gabriel talk about his family was strange, knowing that the person in front of him also lived a normal life surrounded by normal people. Or at least he hoped they were normal. “That would be…?” Gabriel’s snort was clearly directed to Jack’s zero understanding of the Spanish language.

“My grandmother, but not just her. My mother, sisters and even…” Gabriel suddenly hesitated, but Jack was feeling kind enough to not pester him about it. Maybe the Latino was married and the two were having a fall out, probably refusing to acknowledge each other as their significant other.

“You okay with taking the couch? I don’t want your old ass to bitch every day.” Jack only huffed. “I’m not _that_ old, besides, I’ve slept in worse places. I’m also convinced that my couch does a better job than my bed.” In fact, he remembers having actually slept _on_ someone after a very tiring day of training. The two men refusing to speak about it ever again.

“Well if you plan on staying here, you should get a better bed… actually you need to redo your whole place. It looks like it’s haunted.” The blond crossed his arms. “I don’t see the need to fix it up, I’m still alive and kicking. Why should my place look nice?”

“I don’t think any woman would want to date someone living in a trash bin.”

“Maybe I don’t want a woman to date me.”

The words left his mouth without a thought, and Jack was suddenly a deer caught in the headlights. He was very certain of his own sexuality, but it was still hard to be open about it even if modern society is changing. His upbringing a clear reminder of how hard his life would be ever since he realised that yes, _dicks are neat._

Reaper on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat, “Well our men’s standards are way higher than you expect _gringo,_ you might want to tidy up here and there.” Jack only shifted in his seat again, thinking that he might be way too old to be talking about relationships and men. He’s pretty sure those talks ended as soon as they were sent out into the field.

“Well then, are you perhaps _shy_ about having someone here?” Jack couldn’t help but blush, the topic not wanted right now. _Doesn’t help that Gabriel is probably a fucking sex god._ The memory of feeling the man’s smooth muscles suddenly flashing in Jack’s head again. “No wonder you’re so uptight! When was the last time you had some?”

“Shuttup.”

“No need to be shy, if you’re willing then I could easily call-”

“I don’t need to get laid!” Jack was suddenly on his feet, his defences up again. He understood that Gabriel was probably only teasing him, but the topic itself has been thrown at him more than once. Angela always pestering him about getting friends, a _lover._ But he couldn’t, he couldn’t settle down with someone right now, or ever again.

“No need to get so defensive, I was only teasing.” His defences were drawn tighter. “No idea what your problem is, but you need to seriously calm down. I’ve only known you for two days and I could already feel my soul leaving my body.”

It probably wasn’t enough for the Latino to pester until Jack almost panicked to death, but now the man had to also pry in his sexual life? “I don’t need to calm down, I don’t need friends and I don’t need to get laid.” Jack managed to successfully storm out of the room. He could suddenly understand Angela’s need to constantly leave him, because Jack was about to throttle the injured man until he pleaded for his life.


End file.
